


Five Times Legolas Watched Love from Afar, and One Time He Held It Close

by FalconFate



Category: the lord of the rings
Genre: 5+1, A LOT of Angst, Angsty Legolas, Crying, Cuddles, Fluff, Legolangst, Lots of Crying, M/M, Sadness, Some angst, Some death, happy cuddles, sad cuddles, some language I suppose, some violence, some wartime urgency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconFate/pseuds/FalconFate
Summary: Legolas was not unfamiliar with the concept of love.Actually dealing with it himself was another matter entirely.— In which Legolas has feelings, has no idea what to do with them, and just really wants (deserves) a hug gosh darn it.





	1. The Fellowship Forms (and according to Aragorn, hobbits are In Need of A Motherhen™)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first LotR fic, which is surprising because I grew up with these stories, as well as my first 5+1 fic, which isn't surprising because I've never had a good enough idea for one. But here we are! Do enjoy!

It was a strange thing, love. Legolas knew it well, of course, but not in the way you might think; he knew well only its histories, its mischief. But he could never seem to recognize it for himself, whether it came to him from another, or curled an invisible vine around his heart—never, that is, until it was too late, and the vine hooked its thorns deep into his soul to leave gaping wounds.

So he generally tried to avoid it.

Simply watching it was another matter entirely.

As he leapt to Aragorn’s defense against Boromir’s jabs, and Elrond’s council became chaos, not even his skilled ear could hear the voice of the small, smaller-than-a-dwarf-small hobbit—but his eyes could see Gandalf. They could see love in all its heart-wrenching glory as the wizard’s face crumpled with grief, grief born from fear, fear born from love.

“I will take the ring to Mordor,” Frodo said, his voice strong with his conviction. It grew small, and so did he, when he admitted, “Though, I do not know how to get there.”

And love, of course, pushed Gandalf to protect the young creature: “I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

But Legolas was then surprised. Aragorn stood, and said, “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.” He knelt before the hobbit. “You have my sword.”

Legolas followed to join the three. “And you have my bow,” he said. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t aid the attempt to rid the world of this evil.

(He knew he’d never forgive himself if he let Aragorn try to rid this world of this evil alone.)

“And my axe!” announced the dwarf—Gimli, was it? Son of Glóin?

Boromir, as was expected, followed suit in a much less binding manner. Legolas hid a smile at Elrond’s shock as not one, not even two, but _three_ more hobbits sprang out of hiding and declared their allegiance.

Elrond took it in good humor—or perhaps deemed it a fitting answer to listening in on a secret council—for he gave the group a satisfied smile, and declared, “Nine companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!”

“Great!” exclaimed one of the hobbits. “Where are we going?”

—

Before they left, Legolas caught Aragorn alone.

“Tell me,” said the elf, “why do you care so much for these halflings after only a few days, to follow them into danger such as we are?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Aragorn replied easily, though his gentle smile betrayed him.

“I follow you,” Legolas told him. (The unspoken _and I protect you_  was heard anyway.)

“And I follow their innocence,” the ranger answered. 


	2. Gandalf vs. the Balrog: The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've escaped the Mines of Moria, but one member short of their original nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so about the chapter names... they're insane because I take them from the outline document of this fic, and you know what, I'm too lazy to change them. Enjoy the chapter!

It was a wretched, poignant thing, love. Grief had latched her numbing fingers into their souls, the eight of them that were left—eight, not nine as they should be.

For the ninth had fallen into shadow, clutched in the smoking embrace of the Balrog.

Legolas couldn’t quite understand it, what caused this deep ache, what had torn this invisible wound—and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it. Frodo, the young ring-bearer, stumbled away from the group without seeing, gaze foggy in more than one way.

Aragorn stirred them to action with warnings of orcs at night’s fall. Legolas and Gimli helped Pippin and Merry to their feet, Boromir beckoned Samwise into their shelter, and Aragorn…

Aragorn trotted after Frodo, calling to him no fewer than three times before the young ring-bearer looked back, eyes red-rimmed and face wet—Legolas was reminded of the love in Gandalf’s eyes for the small one, so many days before.

Slowly, hesitantly, Frodo made his way back to them. Aragorn extended an arm, and Frodo let it fall over his shoulders. Legolas counted the minutes as the eight continued on to Lothlórien, not sure why he cared to notice that Aragorn’s arm remained for over an hour around Frodo’s small frame, a shelter from… everything, Legolas supposed.

The grief remained numbness just as it remained pain. But their quest was far more important, and they had to set aside their fresh wounds to grieve another day.

—

And yet, Legolas was surprised by the resilience of the hobbits. When Aragorn finally reclaimed his arm after eighty-three minutes, rubbing Frodo’s shoulder before he jogged ahead to scout, Sam hurried closer to the ring-bearer’s side. The gardner began to tell stories, of Gandalf in days before; of his fireworks and his small magics, of his jokes and his pipesmoke ships. Pippin and Merry chimed in, and soon everyone was listening close to the Gandalf that the hobbits had known—the Gandalf of the Shire.

 _They never really knew him, and yet they knew him well,_ Legolas realized. _And loved him, too._

Legolas thought that perhaps he should make more of an effort to notice when he started to love someone, and to certainly do it before he lost them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that Aragorn is the huggiest of the Fellows, and especially gives hugs to the hobbits (mostly Frodo because Frodo is a smol sad bean and needs love). Second would be Boromir or Sam... 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated.


	3. Mah boi Aragorn!! Is!!! Not!!!!! DEAD!!!!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aragorn isn't dead. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting this in the car next to my mother, hence why I've taken a word out of the title of this chapter title. ANYWAY, please enjoy!

Devastated.

That was a good word for Éowyn’s expression when Gimli gave her the news. It was a good word for their chances, now, against the approaching army of Uruk-hai. It was a good word for how Legolas imagined the Lady Arwen would feel, when she heard the news.

If any of them survived to tell her, that is.

Because Aragorn had fallen from the cliff in the Warg attack, fallen to never return.

And Legolas clutched Arwen’s charm tightly in his fist, relishing in the discomfort of the corners and edges against his palm. It reminded him of his failure, that he hadn’t protected his friend, someone he could now see that he loved—

—someone he could now see striding up the steps to the inner keep of Helm’s Deep, followed by Gimli.

Joy pushed Legolas to surge forward, but wisdom or exhaustion (or fear?) held him back from embracing his friend. Instead, Legolas told him, “You’re late.”

Perhaps he should have said, “I don’t really understand why but the idea of you being dead made me scared of living.”

(Aragorn, with his tired, knowing smile, seemed to understand at least a little of what Legolas couldn’t say.)

Instead, the elf proffered Arwen’s pendant and said, “I believe this is yours.”

Aragorn accepted the necklace gratefully. And then he confronted the king of Rohan.

Legolas watched him go, imagining what it must look like from inside: a dead man, opening both of those heavy oak doors himself. Perhaps a touch dramatic, what with the mid-morning sun shining bright behind him.

“The lad’s a piece of work,” Gimli commented, also watching. He gave Legolas a side-eye smile (almost completely hidden by his beard) and a nudge with an elbow—which reached Legolas’s thigh—and continued, “But he’s _our_ piece of work, eh, elf?”

Legolas smiled. “Of course he is. Any other would have given up when he adopted the halflings.”

The dwarf stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. Legolas simply smiled serenely, but Gimli’s incredulous laugh made something expand in the elf’s chest.

“The elf can joke!” Gimli exclaimed. “I _knew_ there was something worth tolerating beneath all of that pomp. I always said so.”  
  
And for that moment, everything was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, in this scene in the movie (i don't remember in the book, a. I haven't read them in a while and b. Tolkien speak) Éowyn sees Legolas give Aragorn Arwen's pendant and Éowyn's face is //priceless//, I think she thinks that Legolas is the one Aragorn received the gem from in the first place, and now I have a headcanon that Éowyn has been reincarnated among us and is currently churning out Legolas/Aragorn fanfics like crazy.
> 
> Does that count as a headcanon? meh.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are loved!


	4. The Battle of Helm's Deep (A.K.A.: Legolas Just Wants to Help)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Helm's Deep, where Legolas just really wants to help people but is going to be a little shit about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title was hard for this one.

Everything was _not_ fine.

Legolas didn’t even know _why_. In all objectivity, everything was, relatively, not bad. They had reinforcements, a chance to maybe last the night with Haldir and his Lothlórien warriors.

But something ached. Something deep in Legolas’s bones, in his soul. Perhaps it was grief—preemptive grief for all those lives that he knew would be lost tonight, such as Gandalf had shown for young Frodo so many weeks ago.

He wondered if Aragorn felt the same, wondered if that was the reason for the man’s delighted laugh when he saw Haldir and wrapped the elf in a firm embrace.

 _Maybe,_ Legolas thought, _I need to pay less thought to what others are thinking, if it’s my feelings that I can’t understand._

But the battle was at hand. Legolas and Gimli placed themselves atop the outer wall of Helm’s Deep, alongside the legion of elves who stood ready. They remained steady to watch the river of Uruk-hai approach, illuminated by their greasy torches.

Well, Legolas and the other elves watched. Gimli, short as he was, could only hear the marching feet, the guttural screeches and bestial grunts, the clamorous din of weapons pounded on white-hand shields. The dwarf attempted numerous times to stand on his toes to see; Legolas offered him a box as the Uruk-hai came level with the mountains guarding Helm’s Deep’s cleft in the cliff.

Gimli declined to give him an answer. Legolas decided that next time he wouldn’t ask, and get him a box whether he wanted one or not.

—

Even as they were failing, Legolas was impressed by the defenders of Helm’s Deep. With every blow against them they fought harder, growing desperation urging them to take greater risks.

Even Legolas himself was fighting with all that he had and more—the sting of failing to take down the torch-wielding Uruk who blew up the wall was turned to fuel, a reason to jump into the thick of battle, to yell his steadily rising kill-count across the battle to Gimli.

The dwarf called back with equal fervor, his axe falling upon Uruk necks and separating orc limbs from their owners.

When Théoden called a retreat to the keep, Legolas moved to the wall. The Uruk-hai on the causeway were ramming a heavy, reinforced log into the wooden gate. Legolas and the other archers found chinks in their collective armor of shields; soldiers who’d run out of arrows long ago were raining rocks and bricks upon the invaders.

Even so, the orcs pressed on. Legolas could feel the men’s despair, thick and cloying on the humid air around him.

Suddenly, with a guttural battle-cry, Gimli appeared on the causeway, and Legolas couldn’t help but grin as he began swinging his axe to and fro, tossing the Uruks as if they were no more than toys. Aragorn leapt after him, and together they pressed the army of Isengard back, down the causeway, _off_ the causeway.

Soon enough, though, the orcs’ surprise wore off, and Théoden called for a retreat. Legolas grabbed a rope and flung it over the side, calling to Aragorn and Gimli to take it, pulling them up the wall between two parapets.

They retreated to the keep, where Aragorn rushed to Théoden’s side. The king had fallen into despair, but Legolas saw the light of morning streaming through a window. Gimli saw it too, and echoed Gandalf’s parting words at Edoras:

_“Look to my coming on the first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm mostly taking this from the movie. Because the elves were not in the books.
> 
> As always: Comments and kudos are loved!


	5. Why Are We Still in Texas––Sorry, ROHAN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively: Percy the Horse Makes an Entrance
> 
> Alternatively alternatively: Merry Misses His Boyfriend

The dwarf was, by now, unconscious. Legolas blinked away the haze of the alcohol; while it was nowhere near as strong as his father’s favorite wine, he had consumed quite a lot.

Gimli was notably not as lucky in terms of tolerance, already snoring away on the floor. Legolas sighed and shook away the ale-fog, gripping under the dwarf’s arms, ready to drag him to their sleeping quarters if he had to. Éomer, who had overseen their very one-sided drinking competition, grabbed Gimli by the ankles and helped Legolas carry him out.

They passed the two hobbits, Merry and Pippen, drunkenly dancing and singing on one of the tables (though it was no less enjoyable for their inebriated state; especially when Pippen possibly-accidentally-probably-not-accidentally kicked a man’s drink into his lap), and also passed Théoden and then Aragorn. Théoden raised an eyebrow at the sight of an elf carrying a dwarf.

Aragorn just laughed, and clapped Legolas’s shoulder. “He didn’t really challenge the son of Thranduil to a drinking game, did he?”

“Unfortunately for him,” Legolas informed him. Aragorn laughed again, and waved them out of the hall.

“I’ll be honest,” said Éomer, as they neared the sleeping quarters, “I don’t think any other man has seen an elf get as close to drunk as you did.”

“The Mirkwood elves are very fond of drink and celebration,” Legolas replied. “But very rarely do even the wine merchants witness our… antics.”

“Antics?”

“Antics.”

\--

The very next morning, Pippen had been brought back from the possibly-dead, Gandalf warned of an attack on Mina's Tirith, Théoden had announced his not-loyalty to Gondor, after Gondor hadn’t helped Rohan (though Legolas knew that Théoden hadn't asked for help) fight off Saruman’s forces, and Gandalf had counter-announced that he would make for Minas Tirith.

But not alone.

From the balcony outside their sleeping hall, Legolas watched the two hobbits follow Gandalf to the stable, though only one would be leaving. He was checking over his weapons in the fresh air, and really only half paying attention to what was going on below. He did notice, as Shadowfax hastened out the gates, that Merry clambered up the ramparts to watch them go.

He also noticed Aragorn follow him. But of course Aragorn followed him; he worried about those left in his charge, and worried about the hobbits most of all.

Legolas sighed and returned his attention to his bowstring. He really needed to stop holding his arrows once he’d drawn them.

Merry had returned to their shared sleeping quarters by the time Legolas had moved on to his knives. Without a word, the hobbit padded out to the balcony, and sat at the edge, his bare feet hanging over empty space, shoulders slumped. Legolas watched him surreptitiously, but said nothing. Merry patted his pockets, as though looking for something, but then suddenly stopped, somehow slumping even more.

 _He misses his friend,_ Legolas’s mind supplied, in a voice sounding suspiciously like Aragorn’s. _Comfort him. Or distract him._

Well, his weapons were fine, anyway.

Carefully, Legolas sheathed his knives, strung his bow, did one last check of the arrows in his quiver. Then he stood, and turned to Merry. “Would you like to come with me to take care of my horse and his saddle?”

Merry blinked up at him, eyes red-rimmed. For a moment, Legolas thought he would refuse, but the hobbit nodded abruptly, and stood up. They made their way in silence down to the stable, where Legolas greeted his horse warmly. “Could you brush him down?” he asked Merry, holding out a soft-bristled brush. “He’s a good fellow, he’ll let you into his stall.”

Merry accepted the brush and began running it along the stallion’s coat. “What’s his name?”

“I call him Percy,” Legolas told him, rubbing Percy’s nose, before he took a wet rag and began cleaning his saddle and bridle. “When we tracked the Uruk-hai to Rohan, we were met by Éomer’s company of loyal Rohirrim. He gave us two horses, whose riders hadn’t survived the attack on the orcs the night before. Gimli and I share Percy; Aragorn was given Hasufel, though now he has Brego to himself.”

“Which one’s Brego?” Merry asked, ducking to brush Percy’s belly.

“The bay next to us,” Legolas told him, pointing when Merry looked up.

“He rescued Aragorn, right? When he fell?”

“He did,” Legolas affirmed, giving the bay’s chin a gentle scratch. “And he has our thanks.”

They didn’t talk much for a few minutes. As Legolas began oiling the leather of his tack, however, Merry asked quietly, “What do you think of Shadowfax?”

Legolas gave him a smile. “Shadowfax is the king of horses. He is an intelligent creature, never tamed by any man; he carries Gandalf by choice, not because he was trained to do so. But he is loyal to our cause, and will carry Pippen to safety, even if they run across enemies. But they will not, because Shadowfax and Gandalf together will ensure his safety.”

Merry smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed. He looked like he might have said something else, but Percy beat him to it, resting his great head gently against Merry’s shoulder.

The hobbit looked surprised, but only for a moment. The next, he’d leaned against Percy’s long forehead, sobbing quietly.

Legolas let him cry, let his little shoulders shake until it was only Percy holding him up. Then he let the hobbit cling to his torso as night began to fall, guiding him back up the hill where he could fall into his blankets, already asleep before his head met his pillow.

\--

Aragorn found him again on the balcony one night, as he had several nights before: watching the stars, though they told him nothing.

“Thank you for helping Merry, my friend,” Aragorn told him softly. The hobbit had been spending nearly every waking hour accompanying Legolas to the stable, helping care for Percy, and then the other horses, until Théoden had deemed Merry’s interest in the world of four-legged companions worthy of his own pony: a small, shaggy gray named Stybba.

“Of course,” was Legolas’s murmured reply. “He misses his Pippen dearly. More dearly, I think, than anyone expected.”

“And you would know very well how to handle that, wouldn’t you?” Aragorn said with a smile.

Legolas blinked at him, unsure how to answer. Aragorn didn’t seem to want a reply, anyway; instead, he sat beside the elf. Though confused, Legolas decided to let it go.

He could decipher Aragorn’s strange questions another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiiii I'm back and school is kicking my ass. Here, have some angst. And fluff? Mostly angst. Also I don't know how but I absolutely fell in love with Pippen and Merry over the course of like, two days. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I am fueled by sleep deprivation and the epic high that is the Battle of Helm's Deep.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment or a kudo (or both. either is appreciated).


End file.
